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By Root 964 0

made my secret count of all the fields of the area, my mother pushed me out of the kitchen and told me to stick to my father like his shadow. At first I was fearful. Almost every time I slipped alongside him he would curse me off and other times he seized my arm and shook it or he would strike me. It was not that Ibrahim hated me or treated me any worse than he treated my brothers. Arab men can be very affectionate to their sons when they are little and dressed as girls and living with the women. But once they cross the threshold into the man’s world they are generally ignored by their fathers. The relationship from then on is centered on obedience: complete, absolute, unquestioning obedience. It is the father’s privilege. For this he allows his sons to work his fields for their living and when they take a bride, she comes into the father’s house.

The father must be alert too, that his sons are not cheating him, and so the tradition of paternal indifference is a way of life. In order to vent frustrations, male children have full leave to boss around all the females, even their own mothers, and they are allowed to slap around their younger brothers. By the time I was four I had already learned to order my grandmother around, and on occasion I would assert my male rights over Nada and even my mother.

The more my father ran me off, the more my mother pushed me back. I walked alongside my father so often that after a time he simply tired of my persistence and accepted my presence.

One day I summoned the courage to confront him. I told him that I had learned to count and read and write a little and that I wanted to go to school in Ramle. As the youngest son, I was due to become the goatherd in a few years and that was the lowest job in the family. He scoffed at the idea.

‘Your brother Kamal knows how to read and write. Therefore it is not necessary for you. You will tend the goat flock by your next birthday and the rest of your life is already predestined. When you take a wife someday, you will remain in my house with your own room.’

This seemed final. I drew the deepest breath I had. ‘Father, I know something,’ I blurted out.

‘What do you mean, you know something, Ishmael?’

‘Something you should also know. A reason I should go to school in Ramle.’

‘Stop playing riddles with me!’

‘There are nine hundred and sixty-two separate parcels of land in Tabah,’ I gasped out, nearly choking on my fear. ‘There are eight hundred and twenty parcels in the other five villages. These do not count the communal land that is farmed together.’

Ibrahim’s face grew somber, a hint that he was grasping my message. I controlled my trembling ... ‘In the account books that Kamal keeps, there are only nine hundred and ten listed for Tabah and eight hundred for the other villages.’

I braced myself as I watched his face grow crimson. ‘You are certain of this, Ishmael.’

‘As Allah is my judge.’

Ibrahim grunted and rocked back and forth in his large chair. He beckoned me to come close to him with a wiggle of his forefinger. I almost bit through my lip with fear. ‘What does it all add up to?’ he asked.

‘Kamal and Uncle Farouk are collecting rents for seventy-two parcels for themselves.’

Ibrahim grunted again, reached out, and patted my head. I’ll never forget it, for it was the first time he had done so since time began. He patted my face softly where he had slapped it so many times before.

‘Will you let me go to school?’

‘Yes, Ishmael. You go to school and learn. But you are never to speak about this to another living soul or I’ll cut your fingers off and boil them. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Father.’

It happened so fast I had no time to explain or even to flee. Kamal, who was nineteen, seized me from behind in the barn and flung me down, leaped on me and choked me and slammed my head against the ground.

‘You dog!’ he screamed. ‘I’ll kill you!’ I kicked as hard as I could, three times, four, five. He bellowed in pain, released me, and doubled up on his knees. I scrambled to my feet and seized a pitchfork. Kamal crawled to his feet, still